Кричалки, вопилки - Болванка - Аккорды, табы, тексты
Аккорды, табы
Болванка
! к/ф "На войне, как на войне"
> Dm C F C F
По полю шли в атаку танки. Они рвались в последний бой.
> D7 Gm A7 Dm A7 Dm
А молодого лейтенанта несут с пробитой головой.
Машина пламенем объята, вот вот рванет боекомплект.
А жить так хочется ребята. А силы выбраться уж нет.
В броню ударила болванка. Погиб гвардейский экипаж.
Четыре трупа возле танка украсят траурный пейзаж.
И полетят тут телеграмы родных и близких известить,
Что сын их больше не вернется. И не приедет погостить.
И мать старуха зарыдает, слезу смахнет старик-отец.
И молодая не узнает, каков танкиста был конец.
И будет карточка пылиться на фоне пожелтевших книг.
В военной форме, при пилотке, но ейон больше не жених.
Нас вынут из обломков люди, поднимут на руки каркас,
И залпы башенных орудий в последний путь проводят нас.
-
The tanks were rattling like a thunder
The tanks were rattling like a thunder
The soldiers went to final fight
And here they carried young commander
With head all broken outright
His tank was hit with armor-piercer
So say good-bye to Guardian crew
Just four more corpses in the hillside
Will add to fair morning view
'Cause now the vehicle is a-burning
Wait for the shells to detonate
You wanna live to see this morning
But you're too weak and it's too late
So they'll extract you from the remains
They'll put your coffin on the clay
And fire & thunder from the mainguns
Will see you into your last way
For now the telegrames are flying
To tell the friends and relatives
That their good son is never coming
And never getting any leave
And there's that photo on the bookshelf
Collecting dust for years on end -
In uniform, with shoulder-boards on...
And he will never be her man.
In unifo-orm, wI-EEEEEEth
shoul-der-bo-ards OOOOOOOn...
And he will never be her man.
They'll bring up us from under fragments
The armours roared on the field,
The soldiers went in their last fight.
They seen as their young commander
Was killed in these action tight.
A gadget strikes in our armour
And farewell my native crew
Four corpses lying near machine
Completed full of morning view.
The armour burning, flame around,
This moment ammo will be blast,
We can't go out on the ground,
We all must die, must die at last!
They'll bring up us from under fragments,
Will lift on hands a skeleton,
We'll scent the shots of armours cannons
When on last way we'll go on.
Then flying out the deadly letters
Directly to my native nest:
Their son will back home henceforth never,
He'll not arrive to take a rest.
Old mother crying in the corner
And daddy sweeping tears by hand...
Oh honey you will never know
How an armourist met his end.
There dusty picture will be only
Place on the wall of little room:
In uniform with shoulder-straps on,
For her, by now, he not a groom.
-
Извлечь сумеют нас едва ли
Из под обломков harmlessly.
"На поле танки грохотали..."
"И чушь прекрасную несли..."
